Conversation with My Girl at Bedtime Last Night


Daughter: Can I sleep with you tonight?

Me: No, sweets. It’s a school night. Go to bed.

Daughter: Please.  It’s a special occasion.

Me: What? What’s the occasion?

Daughter: Haven’t you been watching the news?  It’s Columbus Day.

Me: (pregnant pause)  Dude, Columbus Day isn’t a special occasion … plus it was eight days ago.

Daughter:Oh, okay.  Well, maybe NEXT year on Columbus Day?

Me: Yeah, sure. Maybe so.  Goodnight, girlfriend.

Daughter: Good night, Mommy.

Apparently, I need to get her a calendar.  And we should probably stop having such lavish celebrations on things like World Nutella Day, half birthdays and National Lizard Day.

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How about another game? Let’s play Boobs Around the World!


Across the globe, breast cancer is the most common form of cancer affecting women today.  According to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, “it is estimated that more than 1.6 million new cases of breast cancer occurred among women worldwide in 2010.”

Generally speaking, the more developed countries tend to have higher rates of incidence, which has been attributed to lifestyle and reproductive factors as well as lower screening rates and incomplete reporting in the developing countries. In any event, I think it’s time we all became a little more multi-lingual today and learned to talk about boobs wherever we find ourselves.  You never know when that skill may come in handy. So, without further ado, I bring you our second interactive ODNT game …

Boobs Around the World

… and welcome you to play along.   The rules here are very loose so have some fun with it, amigos!

  1. Play as often as you like but please don’t take two consecutive turns.
  2. Please include the word and its language in your comment.
  3. And, if you’re feeling especially creative, try using it in a sentence.  Then, tell us what it means.

I’ll go first again to show you how it’s done.

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Observations (firsthand and overheard) during a full school fair weekend


(1) You should strip completely before entering your home at night. Shaking out your hair does not rid you of the deeply-implanted results of multiple confetti-eggings. I think I’ll be finding white bits of paper around the house for months. I’m hoping the cat will learn to eat them.

(2) You should never … ever … eat three forms of fried foods in the same day. You will think it’s a great idea at the time. You will wonder why you hadn’t thought of it sooner and will try to encourage others to join you in this whole new decadent, artery-clogging world. You will laugh at the future. But don’t do it. I can’t explain what it does to your body … all through the night … and you really don’t want me to try.

(3) Leave your checkbooks at home! You should still plan to bring lots of cash for all of the crap your kids simply must buy/eat/take a chance on. But having your checkbook makes entirely too much money available to you when your brain and good judgment are clouded by excessive quantities of grease and sugar.

(4) Wait until your child is on his or her own to hand them their spending money. I like to keep the amounts small to ensure that they’ll actually check in with me (often!) throughout the weekend for more. Not everyone operates this way. And you don’t want to be caught handing your kid $5 when their buddy is being handed $50. It creates a bit of an ugly scene … and your child will not wind up displaying his or her best side.

(5) Silly string should never be sprayed into a little girl’s hair. My husband and I took shifts working on its removal process when we got home. And the bits didn’t break up small enough to go down the tub drain so then IT needed to be cleaned. And it was approaching midnight.

(6) Do not think your child really wants you to join her and her friends in the Rock Band booth. She doesn’t. You’re “embarrassing” her. Decide you don’t care and do it anyway. Sing as loud as you can. Own the experience. How many of these do you really get these days, right? Oh, and realize now that you’re most likely going to be singing “Don’t Stop Believin.” (Does that song have a G at the end or not? I’m not sure and I refuse to google something so ridiculous.)

(7) You can’t buy too much glitter for your child’s costume for the fair performance. Every kid wants a ton and you will find yourself putting it on ALL of their faces … and then your own. And then later your daughter will decide her dad needs some, too. Which he will agree to, thinking everyone will understand that it’s because of his daughter’s role in the play. But they won’t and he will just feel foolish and be trapped under a layer of glitter the whole day. After he’s sufficiently frustrated with the fact that it’s all anyone is talking to him about, call him ‘Pretty.’ Get others to do it, too.

(8) If you want to take on the hamster ball, do it early in the fair when you still meet the weight requirements. You will be fatter by the end of the weekend and thus potentially ineligible.

(9) Limit your kid to one goldfish win or you will find yourself in our predicament of last year … with SIXTEEN! We only had two bowls at home so we split them up evenly and decided to let nature take its course. After fifteen fish funerals in five days, we admitted that it was probably not the best idea for the fish or my kids. Oh, and yes, ONE made it almost a year. He died as soon as we put a second fish (that we received as a party favor!) in the bowl with him. And then the party favor fish died, too. We decided it was some kind of fish murder/suicide pact and moved on with our lives.

(10) If you’re writing a blog about your boobs … and boobs in general, expect that they will be a pretty consistent topic (or should I say topics?) of many of the conversations that you have at your kids’ fair. Which, of course, makes for an interesting weekend.

Hope your weekend was as fun-filled, fattening and completely exhausting as mine. Now … let the detoxification begin.

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It could be worse. She could have named it ‘Fluffy.’


Today’s entry is short and sweet. Why? Because it’s fair weekend at my children’s school. That means kids are overeating, parents are overdrinking and just about everyone is overspending … all weekend. All in the name of raising money for the school.

So far, I’ve worked in the fair’s beer booth (hard work … but there were perks) and a yummy NOLA restaurant booth. And, so far, I’ve ingested fried crab balls, fried cheese, fried Oreo beignets … see a trend here? Oh, yeah. And beer. I’ll definitely need to do a little detox next week.

And we also brought home a new family pet.

When the fair had only been underway for an hour, my daughter approached us with her first goldfish win. I will add that last year we took home ELEVEN! She had actually won more than ELEVEN but my enterprising kid took it upon herself to trade some of her goldfish for Cokes, food tickets and even money. Sure it was embarrassing to hear from the other kids’ parents … but, frankly, I was relieved not to have to deal with more fish (than ELEVEN!) and kind of proud of her entrepreneurial spirit.

Anyway, as we were putting our overtired, confetti-haired, glitter-cheeked, junk food-filled little girl to bed last night, we asked her what she wanted to name her fish. And, without hesitation, she answered “Steve.”

Expecting Goldie, Swimmy, Finn or one of the other tired standbys, we just about fell over laughing at our daughter’s wit. Of course, we had both had a few by then.

Wow, would you look at the time?!!? I have to run. I’m expected in the Rock Band booth shortly. If I don’t go in knowing every word to ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ and ‘Eye of the Tiger,’ I will soon.

Have a great weekend.

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Introducing Steve … and his old pal, Patrick.

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Thanks, NFL, for enlightening my son … but I’m taking some of the credit, too.


It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Did you know that? Well, of course, you did.

Even my kids have noticed the ‘pinking’ of their worlds lately. I like that. I like that they’re so aware as children and don’t giggle at all when discussing something this important. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re all saying ‘breast’ and not ‘boob.’ (Yeah, that would likely send them both over the edge.)

My son and I recently got to spend a little one-on-one time together when he was home sick from school a few days. Strep throat. Poor kid missed playing in his football team’s playoff and championship games, which has got to really bite for him. So, what does a mom do to make it up to her boy? Well, once he was feeling well enough to leave home, we went straight for the fast food (greasy and delicious!) and then to a local sports store where, of course, I bought him a for-no-reason present. Love those kinds of days.

And, while we were in the store, my son couldn’t help but notice all of the pink jerseys, hats, gloves, cups, pens and other merchandise that touted the Breast Cancer Awareness message alongside the name of his favorite football team. (Duh, the New Orleans Saints)

I expected him to think all of the pink stuff in a Saints/Hornets/LSU store was oddly out of place. He always asks a lot of questions and I was ready to do some serious explaining. But instead, he just surprised me and said, “Look at all the pink jerseys. All the NFL teams are wearing them for Breast Cancer Month. And pink pants, gloves, socks, cleats, everything. You ought to put it on your blog, Mom.” And then he suggested that I take a few pictures.

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My blog??? My boy’s been paying attention enough to know about Breast Cancer Awareness Month and that his mom is writing a blog?? I just looked at him with my mouth open and decided to do exactly as I was instructed.

I don’t know that I’ve been giving him enough credit. His birthday is Sunday. I think I’ll go buy him an extra present.

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Would you trust a man who came to your door offering a free breast exam?


Two dumb ass Florida women did back in 2006 when Phillip Winikoff, then 76, showed up at their doors carrying a black doctor’s bag and stating that he was  there on behalf of the local hospital offering free breast examinations. And, apparently, their breasts weren’t all that he ‘examined’ … which is what finally sent up a red flag to one of these women to call the police. When the police arrived, “Doctor” Winikoff was stupidly still in the same apartment complex seeing another “patient” …. plus he was 76 … so it was a pretty easy apprehension.

Now five years later, Winikoff struck a plea deal with the prosecutors yesterday in the hopes of avoiding a trial, which could result in 55 years in jail. His original charges included three counts of sexual battery, two counts of practicing medicine without a license, two counts of simple battery and one count of using the title of doctor without a license.

Due to various circumstances, the judge on the case had to reschedule the plea hearing for a to-be-determined date. There’s no information yet about whether the plea deal will keep Winikoff out of prison.

Says me, choking on my morning beverage … “Really???”

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Let the voting begin! And then there were two …


Okay … I want you to think very carefully  … as your input will help me make my decision. Please take a moment to look back on the five consultation reports and get a feel for the doctors again.  Honestly, I was the one there … and it was my boobs being handled over and over and over again … and I STILL needed to go back and review everything just to write the cheat sheet yesterday.

Pretend like it’s YOUR boobs.  I need you to help me pick two doctors to advance to round two.   My husband will be joining me for these two appointments.  Hell, my mom might even be coming along.

What would you do? Remember … my girls are counting on you.

 

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Prepping for Round Two Voting Tomorrow


Okay, we’ve got five consultation appointments down (hard to believe!) and an incredible amount of information to digest.  But only two doctors can advance to the second round.  (Kinda feel like you’re watching America’s Got Talent?)

So, here’s where you come in.  I want you to help me pick these two doctors … so I’m providing you with a Cliff’s Notes version of ODNT to help you decide.  (Didn’t you just love Cliff’s Notes … and didn’t you hate the teachers who knew how to circumnavigate them when creating their tests?  And did you know that the original creator of these books was actually some dude from Nebraska in the 50s named Cliff?  He lifted the idea from his buddy, Cole, from Canada who had already started publishing Cole’s Notes up there. Yes, I am serious.  And no, I didn’t know that off the top of my head.  Duh, Google!)

Anyway, please take a look at your cheat sheet below … but remember … I’m the teacher now.  And what does that mean?  It means there’s a lot of shit in my five carefully scripted reports that cannot be found in these excessively condensed notes.  Shit that could sway you in any direction.  So, my recommendation …. and my request … is that you review the doctor visits and help me cull these five down to two.  (Maybe I can get an 800# for voting like American Idol.)

I’ll likely start the voting tomorrow so please get thinking for me.  Oh, and don’t forget to play the Boob ABC game (from 10/10/11).  We’re halfway there. Thanks, all!

  • Doctor #1 – Full lift and (maybe) implants later; Prefers saline; Not too big; Two procedures
  • Doctor #2 – Mini-lift and implants; Prefers silicone; Big to get your $ worth; One procedure
  • Doctor #3 – Full lift and fat injections from abdomen w/some stomach contouring; Medium-sized; One procedure
  • Doctor #4 – Mini-lift and implants; Prefers saline; Not too big – 270-330ccs; One procedure; Insurance offered on implants
  • Doctor #5 – Full  lift and implants; Prefers silicone; Not too big  – 280-300ccs; One procedure
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Shall we play a game?


Okay, who’s thinking about War Games now? I can’t hear those words without hearing a monotone, oversynthesized robotic computer voice, too. Admit it. If you’re a child of the 80s, that’s where your brain went when you read this title. Matthew Broderick, the WOPR, “The only winning move is not to play” … you know what I mean.

Anyway, I’m home with my boy today who is as sick as a dog. At the moment, we’re attempting a little nap, which is likely only to result in 15 minutes of fitful rest. The kid’s never been much of a sleeper. And the cat, who I may bake into a pie very soon, is hellbent on keeping him awake right now. For those who don’t know, Milo is a very loud and needy cat.

So, with only 15 minutes or so of potential free (writing) time today, I thought it would be fun to play a goofy little game inspired by an idea from my friend, Chris.

We’ve all heard them. From hooters to headlights, there are a million names for boobs. And, in this very special month dedicated to breast health, let’s see if we can come up with a boob word for every letter of the alphabet. Using the comment boxes below, the first person would list an A-word. Then, the next person would list a B-word. And so on. Follow?

And here are the rules:

  1. You may only submit one answer per comment.
  2. You may play more than once but the same person can’t answer for two letters in a row.
  3. Funny is fabulous. Racy is fine. But so vulgar that I will start crying and run screaming to hide under my covers ’til morning is not. Be nice!

And I’ll start us off with the first boob word. A is for … (see comments below)

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Would you believe me if I told you breast implants can SAVE your life?


While the world over debates the safety and health ramifications of breast implants, there’s one woman in Moscow who is counting her blessings for ‘adding on’ five years ago. This 40-year-old woman was recently stabbed in the chest by her husband in the midst of an obviously heated argument. He was aiming for her heart … but what he hit was her boob.  And the knife became lodged in one of her silicone breast implants, the apparently enormous gifts she received from the very same man years earlier.

The woman was, of course, rushed immediately to the hospital and is now doing just fine.  She’s already replaced the implant and left her homicidal husband.

As I see it, she’s now fixed one big leaky boob and dumped an even bigger, more stabby one.

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